


Healer: Do No Harm

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having finally captured and reprogrammed Ratchet, Megatron thought they were getting a brilliant if snarky medic. He didn't count on the trouble a Decepticon Ratchet could cause...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Procedure: complete. Medic: Decepticon.”

Megatron allowed a smug smile to cross his faceplates as Soundwave stepped out into the corridor. “Excellent.”

The metallic thud and following yelp of pain wiped the smile off his face as he jumped to one side to avoid being run over by Hook as he shot out of his own medbay as if the entire Autobot army was on his aft.

Slumping against the wall the Constructicon raised a hand to his dented helm. “I’ll stand by my original assessment Sir, keeping him will be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I don’t recall asking you.” Megatron said as the Constructicon edged away from him.

“You had me suppress some of his emotional subroutines and some of the medical programming, specifically the bit that includes, ‘do no harm’ so that he would survive as a Decepticon. You thought he was dangerous as an Autobot? Hook gave a derisive warble. “Just don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.”

Glaring at the departing back of his first medic, his contemplation of whether blasting him for his insolence was worth it or not was disturbed by the medbay doors sliding open.

“You.”

A quick glance around showed that Soundwave was in the process of making a tactical retreat, leaving him to deal with his newest recruit alone.

“Me.” He replied as he slid his optics over the gleaming black and red chassis. Hook and Soundwave had done a good job with that at least.

Red optics narrowed as the medic gestured into his newly claimed domain. “I need to do routine maintenance on all you slaggers, Hook’s records are terrible. You might as well lead by example.”

“I think not. I...” Whatever else the Warlord was going to say was cut off with a well placed wrench to the helm.

 

* * *

“We’re DOOMED!” Several pairs of optics flickered over the mech before returning to their energon rations. Dead End predicting doom was a rather frequent occurrence.

“The medic’s out to get us. He’ll offline us all and use us for spare parts!” This announcement got slightly more attention, however it was mainly for the spectacle of Dead End diving behind Astrotrain and curling into a shivering ball of metal.

“He’s probably listening to this right now and plotting.” The arrival of Breakdown and Wildrider, both of whom proceeded to follow their fellow gestalt member into hiding was slightly more suspicious.

“Hook is out to get you?” Astrotrain asked as he shifted to try and see the three Stunticons taking refuge behind his chassis.

“No. Ratchet.”

“The Autobot medic?” One of the Seekers asked with a frown.

“Yes. No. He’s Decepticon now. ”

“Ratchet is a Decepticon and is out to get you?” The disbelief was evident in the tone.

“Fragging right I am. Get your slagging afts back to my medbay or I will weld them to the roof.”

Raising an optical ridge the medic waited, wrench tapping idly against his free hand, for his current victims to comply with his orders; the rest of the rec room was so silent you could hear gears turning in processors.

The three Stunticons slunk out of the room with Dead End clinging desperately to Wildrider’s chassis. With a smirk the medic followed them at a sedate pace.

Dirge casually summed up the thoughts of most of the rooms occupants quite neatly as he let his helm drop into one of his hands and morosely stared into his half empty cube of energon. “We’re doomed.”

 

* * *

“Owwwww. Watch the fraggin’ doors would ya”

“Slag it, this is all your fault.”

“My fault? You were the one being an aft.”

“Fragger.”

“Afthead.”

“Slagging glitch.”

Some things on board the Nemesis were so commonplace they didn’t even get a second glance.

“How are we meant to go on patrol?”

“You should have thought of that before.”

“I should have thought of that? Why didn’t you think of that?”

If the argument was considered a normal occurrence, so too was the multiple requests from other annoyed cons in the rec room for them to shut up.

This time however the request by an irritated group of Combaticons trailed off halfway through.

“Yeah yeah. Laugh all ya want glitches.” Runamuck said as he glared over the cons in the rec room and flashed them a rude human gesture.

“Hey watch it!” Runabout yelped as he ducked.

“Ratchet?” Blast Off managed to get out in between sniggers.

“Who else?” Runabout said as they finally made it to the energon dispensor. “It’s entirely his fault.” He said gesturing at Runamuck.

“Why you...”

The punch that was thrown never landed as they overbalanced and the crunch of metal impacting the floor was broken by twin groans of pain.

“You remember the old rule number one?” Swindle asked as he peered down at the twins.

“Eh, don’t annoy Megatron unless you want your aft handing to you in little pieces?” Runamuck asked as the twins attempted to lever themselves back off the floor.

Swindle nodded, “Aye, that rule. It’s now number two.”

Vortex sniggered as the now conjoined twins finally made it back to their peds. “New rule number one: Obey the medic at all costs.”

 

* * *

“HOOK!!!”

“What has he done this time?” The Constructicon medic had over the past few planetary revolutions become accustomed to rude interruptions from mechs who had run afoul of Ratchet in a temper.

Glancing up from the datapad he was reading, to the doorway of his quarters at the mech who had yelled, he froze.

Looking back at his datapad he rebooted his optics.

No. He was still seeing what he thought he had seen.

“Onslaught?”

“Yes, yes, wonderful, you know who I am. Now can you fix it?”

“He’s reprogrammed your alt mode.” Hook was quite impressed he managed to maintain a straight face as he looked over the other mechs new appearance.

“Yes” the words were forced out through clenched denta. “Can. You. Fix. It?”

“It’ll cost you.” Hook grinned; at this rate he’d have enough favours to buy the entire Decepticon army.

“Fine.” Onslaught ground out as Hook gestured him into the Constructicon quarters, the medbay now being firmly in the grasp of Ratchet.

“I’ll need you in your alt form to access the transformation sequence.” Well, that was a lie, but there was no way he would let the other mech get away without him having some good blackmail material.

Hook snorted as the other mech folded down into his newly modelled alt mode, he had to hand it to Ratchet, mech might be insane but his work was absolutely beautiful.

Commiting the images of the fluorescent pink and yellow moped into his databanks Hook set to work.

* * *

 

“I am going to murder that medic.”

The cold, emotionless statement interrupted Megatron and Starscream latest argument as Barricade clunked into the control room.

“You will not...” Megatron trailed off as a piece of armour hit the floor with a dull clang, his anger slowly giving way to surprise.

Taking the opportunity to slink away from the previously irate Warlord Starscream tilted his helm. “What did you hit?”

Barricade spared him a murderous glare before advancing on Megatron, “you will rein in that maniac before somebody offlines him.”

“Attempting to offline Ratchet: impossible.” Both Barricade and Megatron ignored the addition to the conversation from the comm. station where Soundwave was monitoring the airwaves.

“What exactly did he do this time?” Megatron asked wearily as he took in the state of one of his premier warriors. “It looks like you hit a wall at around three hundred miles per hour.”

The snarl that ripped from Barricades vocaliser had even Megatron taking a prudent step backwards.

Unsubspacing a long chain like bit of metal he held it up. Long spikes glistened as it twirled in the light.

“The organics call them stingers; they use them to stop car chases by shredding the tires and causing the vehicle to lose control.”

“And you ran over one of these how?” Megatron asked with a fair amount of trepidation, quite sure that he didn’t really wish to know the answer.

“The fragger covered the corridors near his medbay with them. He got sick of Wild Rider using it as a shortcut and almost running him over. Fragger didn’t think to tell any one else they were there.”

“Solution: ingenious.”

“I’ll have a word with him.” Megatron quickly assured Barricade to avoid having to have his comm. officer put back together after the enraged warrior tore him apart.

Barricade snarled before stomping back out of the control room, several bits of bent and cracked armour left in his wake.

* * *

 

“Soundwave, where are Frenzy and Rumble?” Megatron glared at his comm. chief as he awaited a response. “I ordered them to report here.”

“Casseticons: unable to comply”

“They what?”

“Casseticons: unable to report to this location” Soundwave clarified as he pulled up the security logs onto one of the terminals. Ravage huddling at his peds in a small ball of metal.

“Why are they unable to get here?”

“Casseticons: pranked Ratchet.”

“I think I see where this is going...” Megatron said as he peered over Soundwaves shoulder at the security footage of all Soundwaves cassettes bar Ravage securely welded to the rec room ceiling. “You haven’t tried to free them?”

“Soundwave: has no wish to join them.”

“I need them for a mission.”

“Suggestion: Megatron rescue cassettes. Reason: Soundwave not suicidal.”

* * *

 

“And so Primus help you, I will turn you into an overgrown toaster you winged maniac.”

Mechs for several corridors winced, glad that the medic’s ire was focused on a different slagger, meaning they were relatively safe, for now...

The slight concussive wave of displaced air in one of those corridors announced the abrupt arrival of Skywarp, an offline Thundercracker propped up in his arms; the now all too familiar dented helm speaking of what had befallen him.

“Sorry Screamer, you’re on your own.” Skywarp muttered as he hauled his unconscious wingman back to their quarters. “You want to argue with Ratchet feel free, but we’re not getting involved, we’re not that slagging stupid, are we Thunder?”

The steady intake of air into a cooling system was his only answer. “Thought not.” Warp said as he reached their door. “We’ll go unweld his aft tomorrow yes?”

There was no audible answer but Skywarp didn’t seem to need one as he manoeuvred himself and his companion through the door.

“Skywarp, Thundercracker, report to the control room.”

Wincing at the ringing in their audios from the very loud, very annoyed, base wide announcement from their glorious Leader both of the mechs in question were off the berth and halfway to the door before they noticed the absence of their Trineleader.

“Wonder what he’s done this time?” Thundercracker asked as he checked his internal chronometer. Barely a quarter of a planetary cycle since he was offlined in medbay, even Skywarp would be hard pressed to get into trouble in that short a space of time.

Flicking his wings in a shrug, Warp popped them both up to the corridor outside the control room.

Getting close enough to the door to trigger it the two Seekers cautiously peered around the doorframe; seeing both Megatron and Soundwave present without any visible weaponry activated reassured them that the situation was safe enough to step into for the moment.

“Ah, finally. What exactly would you know about that?” Glancing at each other both seekers warily peered around the Warlord at the item he had indicated.

“It’s. Well. It seems to be...”

“An organic bread toasting machine in a size large enough for Devastator to use.” Thundercracker filled in when Skywarp suddenly trailed off with a snort of amusement.

“And you have no knowledge of how it came to be here?” Megatron asked in a rather neutral tone that suggested he had an answer and was merely awaiting confirmation.

Thundercracker frowned as Skywarp started sniggering beside him. “No, Sir.”

“You were offline.” Warp managed through his laughter, “but Ratchet threatened to turn Starscream into a toaster if he kept arguing with him.”

Thundercracker frowned before turning back to stare at the toaster.

He wasn't the only one.

“Ratchet: genius.”

Both Seekers and Warlord turned to regard the communications officer in disbelief.

“Toasters: unable to talk. Starscream: quiet.”

* * *

 

“We are agreed then?”

The gathering of cons was a strange sight. Usually attempting to destroy each other they had come together for a single purpose: to return the Medic of Doom to the Autobots before he offlined them all.

Megatron frowned as he looked over his troops as they efficiently gathered energon from the powerplant they were raiding. They were too quiet. Even Starscream hadn't protested any part of the plan.

In fact, they had been like this for several planetary revolutions.

“Megatron.”

He sighed as the red and blue truck crested a nearby hill, an assortment of vehicles spread out behind him.

“Prime.”

“Before you start blasting each other, we,” here Starscream indicated the cons who were calmly subspacing energon cubes in preparation to retreat, “would like to point out that your medic has been with us for the past few months.”

“Ratchet.” Prime growled as he powered up his weaponry. “What have you done to him?”

“Not much. But you can have him back.” Onslaught said as he poked the form of an offline mech at his feet.

“What?”

“What?”

Megatron and Prime glanced at each other as they both spoke at the same time, surprise on both of their faces.

“He's a menace.” Hook said. “In the interests of giving you a fair warning, we did change a few of his programs.”

“Decepticons, retreat.” Starscream said as they finished subspacing the energon, leaving the unconscious medic behind them.

“I think you’ve been outvoted.” Prime said as Megatron stared after his retreating cons before common sense kicked in and he blasted after them.

“Starscream, you will pay for this.” He said over the Decepticon comm. frequency as he caught up with his troops.

“Negative: Decision unanimous. Ratchet: had to go.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, I think we’re done.”

“You’re sure?” Prime asked as he glanced over the group of Autobot medics and scientists as they looked over the chassis of their former, (and now returned) chief medic.

“As best we can be till we online him and see if he shoots us.” Hoist pointed out as Fixit, Wheeljack and First Aid hovered around the offline form.

“Well then. I suppose we better get him online.”

Collectively bracing themselves Fixit reached a hand round the back of Ratchets neck and unhooked the medical interlink cable which had been keeping him offline while they worked.

“Slagging, glitching, fragging aft headed slagger...”

Prime took a step back even as the rest of the medics seemed to let out a shared sigh of relief as the tension in all their frames bled out at the stream of progressively more obscene Cybertronian that questioned Megatrons heritage, personal life and aesthetics in great detail.

“Good to have you back Ratch.”

The once again luminous green hummer smiled, “Good to be back. If I ever catch up with Megatron I’ll shove his cannon where the sun don’t shine”

* * *

Backing up away from the wrench being waved under his optics the engineer finally ran out of lab and hit a wall.

Holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender he attempted to placate the irate medic. “Eh, you wouldn’t actually hurt me.” His headfins flickered rapidly, “would you Ratch?

Ratchet tilted his head as he regarded the trapped engineer. “Why not? You disobeyed my orders. No re-entering your lab and blowing things up till the welds from your last lot of repairs have set. Not a hard order to follow. I also warned you what the consequences would be if you disobeyed me.”

“But we’re Autobots. We don’t hurt each other.” Wheeljack pleaded as he tried to sidle sideways along the lab wall.

“I’m afraid to be the one to tell you this ‘Jack, but you just missed a few bits of code. You removed all the memories and coding which suggested I was a Decepticon. You didn’t unblock the Medics Code of Honour.”

Wheeljack froze, mid step, head tilted. “Megatron blocked that?”

Ratchet grinned, the smirk that covered his faceplates much more fitting on his Decepticon alter ego. “Oh yes.”

Forgetting all thoughts of covertly sliding away from the medic Wheeljack made a mad dive across what was left of his lab bench. Rolling back to his pedes in a display that would have left even the most nimble of warriors gaping in awe he dodged around several piles of junk, only to slide out the doorway to slump against the far wall with a crunch.

“Rule number one: obey the medic at all costs.” Ratchet stated as he retrieved his favourite wrench from beside the offlined mech and stowed it away in a subspace pocket. Hauling the engineer over a shoulder he set off back to his medbay humming an old Cybertronian tune.

* * *

“Prime! Get your aft down to my medbay. I won’t ask you again!” The base wide transmission caused the mech in question to prudently step behind Ironhide, using the better armoured mech as a shield in case the medic was roaming the base.

Unfortunately Ironhide wasn’t falling for that and quickly moved aside with a look that quite clearly said, ‘you are on your own.’

“As my body guard you are meant to protect me.” Prime pointed out as he was abandoned.

“From Cons an’ any other threats, not from Ratchet,” the weapons master quickly replied as he continued to edge away.

“So? You going to go?” one of the bots asked when Prime didn’t move.

“I’m not sure...” Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by Ratchet once again snarling over the base comms.

“Optimus Prime that was your last warning, if you want to be treated like a sparkling who doesn’t want to come for his check-up I can do that.”

“I think I better go see what he wants.” Prime looked mournfully at the rest of his energon before downing what was left of the cube in one and saluting the room before leaving the empty container on the nearest table. “If I don’t return, somebody come find my chassis and drag me out of the medbay.”

Laughter and several shouts of ‘good luck’ followed him out of the rec room.

“Prime? Ratchet didn’t murder you then.”

“No, it was just a routine check-up. Energon treat?” Prime asked as he held out a pink gooey sweet.

Prowl looked nonplussed at the rather random offer.

“Ratchet said that if I was going to act like a sparkling then he’d treat me like one.” Prime shrugged as he removed several more energon sweets from his subspace. “Anyway, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Prowl felt an optic ridge rise of its own accord as he watched his leaders retreating aft. Prime must have forgotten that medics used to give stickers and sweets to sparklings.

Although to give Prime some credit, the stickers weren’t usually stuck on by the medic while the patient was offline, nor did they usually say ‘my other lover is a Decepticon’ in bright purple lettering.

* * *

“That was... unexpected.”

Stood beside Will Lennox, Epps continued to stare after the retreating form of the black pickup truck as it screeched around the corner with a squeal of tires.

Both soldiers shook themselves before Will ventured out onto the Autobots firing range.

“Confetti.” He said as he returned to Epps with a handful of the colourful bits of paper.

“Sideswipe?” Epps suggested as the two soldiers stowed their guns and began to trudge back to the main base, following the rubber marks left by Ironhide’s passage.

“Nah, even he’s not stupid enough to fiddle with ‘Hides cannons.”

“You really don’t want to go in there.” The two humans looked up at the silver Autobot who looked as if he was attempting to blend into the wall, then to the gathering of mechs on the other side of the firmly closed door, all who were wincing or grinning in tandem.

A particularly loud series of beeps and whistles, followed by a clang and several more beeps, clued the two humans into the fact that the gathered Autobots, with their more sensitive hearing, were rather effectively eavesdropping on whoever was arguing.

Having faced down Decepticons, Will felt perfectly justified in inching open the human sized door and peering into the room, after all, nothing could be worse than a giant scorpion with a rocket launcher.

Scratch that. He pulled back from the door with wide eyes as he looked up at Sideswipe.

“Short story, Ratchet says that if ‘Hide comes into medbay one more time for self-inflicted-non-Decepticon injuries incurred while training he’ll do more than change his guns.”

“Do I want to know the long story?” Will asked as he settled down with the rest of the Autobots to wait out the storm.

“I’m not sure I could tell you.” Sideswipe said as there was another sharp retort of metal on metal and furious beeping, “the long story is extremely rude and mostly physically impossible.”

* * *

The humans on the base were understandably shocked when a giant wolf entered the control room, padded over to Optimus Prime and sat down.

Then again most of the mechs weren’t much better off as they regarded the green cyberwolf that was at least twice the size of a normal Cybertronian wolf.

“Eh, good boy” Prime said as he carefully patted the beast on the head while slowly inching away.

Much to his surprise it didn’t pounce, growl, bite, or do anything that a cyberwolf could be expected to do, it just sat in place, looking rather pathetic.

Looking around, Prime met the optics and eyes of the gathered mechs and humans, all who looked as clueless as he himself was.

That was until one of the humans pointed out the small band of silver welded around the neck of the cyberwolf, and a small disc of metal attached to the front.

Cautiously extending a hand to the disc Optimus carefully read the Cybertronian glyphs etched into the metal.

“If found, return to Mirage, Diego Garcia.” He read off with a frown.

Moving to one of the terminals he opened a commline to the bot in question. “Mirage. What would you know about a large green cyberwolf?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment as the spy assimilated what he had just been asked, before the unmistakable sound of hysterical laughter filtered through the commline.

The cyberwolf made an odd growling sound before hiding its head under its paws.

“I’ll be right down to collect him, Sir.” The spy managed to get out before cutting the commline off, leaving the gathering no wiser as to why they had a giant, apparently tame cyberwolf in their midst.

“You know, that look kind of suits you.” Mirage said as he arrived in the doorway.

With a soft whuff of vented air, the cyberwolf perked up and trotted over to the spy and gifting him with what could only be termed a pleading look.

“Oh no. You’re on your own. If you think I’m going to plead your case to Ratchet you are sorely mistaken.”

The cyberwolf curled its tail under its body and lowered itself to the ground, whining.

“It’s your own fault Hound, I did warn you, besides I’m sure he’ll change your alt mode back to a jeep soon.” With that the spy abruptly turned around and stalked out, a thoroughly chastised cyberwolf following at his heels.

Optimus continued staring at the door for a long moment before deciding that he didn’t really want to know just how the scout had earned the medics wrath.

* * *

“Prowler?”

The mech in question spun around as he looked for the source of the voice which had interrupted his contemplation of the datapad in his hand as he made his way to the energon dispenser.

“Not funny Jazz.” He said as tried to spot whatever communication device the saboteur was using to prank him.

“Well actually, it is kind of funny but some help would be appreciated.”

This time the voice was much closer than Prowl expected, and definitely not being filtered through a comm. unit.

“Do I want to know?” He asked as his doorwings twitched.

“Probably not.” The seemingly disembodied voice was surprisingly cheerful given its owners predicament.

Venting air from his intakes in an unconscious human gesture the tactician finally stepped back and lifted his optics.

Jazz grinned down at him, apparently not at all perturbed by being welded to the ceiling of the rec room.

“Does your current location have anything to do with Ratchet?”

“Afraid so.” Jazz said as he waved his fingers, just about the only part of his body that hadn’t been securely attached.

Prowl vented air again as his wings drooped; Ratchet had given him more paperwork since returning from the Decepticons than the rest of the Autobots combined, and that included Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

Something would have to be done.

* * *

“I say we let him loose on the ‘cons again.”

There were several sounds of agreement from around the table as a large group of Autobots attempted to come up with a plan to deal with the apparently unstoppable force known as Ratchet.

“I’ve been wondering,” a once again mech shaped Hound said; “just what did he do to the ‘cons to make them give him back?”

Several sets of optics blinked.

“Thanks Hound, next time I see Megatron all I’m going to imagine is him welded to a wall.”

The scout shrugged with an unrepentant grin before everybody tensed at the alarm ringing through the base.

“That has to hurt.” Jazz commented offhandedly as he leaned against a wall with the rest of the Autobots who had been sent out to deal with the latest Decepticon incursion.

Bluestreak shouldered his rifle, too amazed at what he was seeing to make a decent shot. The rest of the Autobots had already given up the fight and were watching their medic plow through the Decepticon ranks with little regard to his own safety.

Not that the ‘cons were shooting at him.

Most had turned tail and fled as soon as he had stalked towards them, rifle in one hand and circular saw humming on the other arm.

The few remaining slowly seemed to be coming to the conclusion that in this case running was not an act of cowardice, more self preservation.

With the last seeker leaving a smoke trail away from the fight Ratchet deactivated his rifle and saw and slowly ambled back to the rest of the Autobots.

“What are you slaggers looking at?” He asked as he peeled some scratched paint away from a dent in his armour. “You look like you’ve never seen a mech fight.”

The Autobots made no response as the medic stomped past them and into Skyfire's hold.

“I’m having second thoughts about returning him to the ‘cons, if he gets that response anytime they see him we have to keep him around.” Jazz said as soon as he was out of audial range. “We’ll just have to take his threats seriously.”

The gathered Autobots nodded in agreement before a surly shout had them all tripping over each other to obey the medic and park their afts in Skyfire for the trip back to Diego Garcia.

Huddled together none of them saw the smirk that crossed Ratchet's face as he stretched out in the circle of personal space that had been left around him. If he had known he could get this level of respect he’d have deactivated parts of his programming a long time ago.


	3. Chapter 3

Several bots rebooted their optics as First Aid stumbled into the rec room, vents heaving as he slid to the floor beside the nearest table.

“Aid? You ok?”

The medbot managed to nod, his vocaliser crackling with static as he tried to speak.

“Ratchet?” Somebot asked with trepidation once they realised he was, to use a human phrase, rolling on the floor laughing his aft off, rather than glitching.

Aid nodded again as he finally started to calm down. “Twins.” He managed to get out before his vocaliser descended back into static.

“What did they do?”

“Something they should know not to.” Ratchet said as he stepped through the doorway, a wicked smirk gracing his faceplates as he padded over to his apprentice and slid into a seat. “You alright down there Aid?”

“Fine.” The Protectobot said as he scooted over to his mentor and rested his helm on a knee. Several mechs felt a small thread of jealousy wind through their processors as Ratchet just smiled indulgently at his student as he patted the helm, First Aid seemed to be the only mech that Ratchet not only tolerated, but who was immune to his new sense of vengeance.

“So what did they do?” Jazz asked again when Ratchet stretched out without answering his original query.

“You’ll see.” The medic replied, which given that the twins had recognised the danger early on and had been avoiding the medbot, was not reassuring. “Energon Aid?” Ratchet asked as Jazz continued to hover around the table; he never could resist a good mystery.

“Please.”

“Energon for two Jazz.” The black and white bot appeared to weigh up his options for a moment before decisively making his way towards the energon dispensor.

“Not even a hint?” he pleaded as he passed out the cubes. “Please.”

Ratchet took a sip of his energon before crooking a finger at the saboteur until he leant over to hear the medics whisper. “I promised that I would reformat them if they annoyed me.” The medic grinned, his now trademarked expression that indicated pain and suffering. “I always keep my promises.”

\-------------------

Megatron watched the skirmish from the back ranks of his mechs. It had all been going well, the conversion of electricity from some human installation into energon almost complete when the Autobots had crashed the party.

On the positive side, it didn’t seem that the demon medic was around. He was still reading through the reports from the last raid that had ended with nine mechs in the repair bay and the rest of the raiding party near mutiny.

“Seekers: incapacitated.” Megatron growled as he nodded his acknowledgement at the comm. officer. Did he have to do everything himself?

Launching into the air he quickly spied his aerial forces, all of them grounded in one area.

“Starscream? What are you doing? Is creating an aerial defence really that hard?” He yelled as he set down, striding towards the huddled jets.

He expected screaming, excuses or insults from his air commander, not for the lot of them to start sniggering like a pack of younglings.

“Look what we found.” Megatron raised an optical ridge before humouring the seeker, since Thundercracker was usually reliable.

“When did the Autobots get more femmes?” His question caused yet another round of giggling seekers and twin scowls.

Wait...

Megatron felt a smirk stretch across his faceplates as he took in the delicate frames and very flattering curves, and the rather distinctive helm designs.

“Ratchet?” he asked just as the golden femme spun around and abruptly slapped Skywarp.

“Touch my aft one more time and I’ll rip out your optics.” The threat, delivered in soft feminine tones didn’t sound at all dangerous to the gathered ‘Cons.

\------------------------

“Ratchet. Are you going to put the twins back to normal soon?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” The older medic said as he approached his apprentice, a cube of energon in his hands.

“Thanks.” Aid said as he accepted the offered cube, taking a long draught. “I think they’ll have learnt their lesson now, I mean, they did end up spending an entire battle running from a flock of seekers. We can’t just leave them as femmes.”

“Those two will never learn.” Ratchet grouched as First Aid swayed.

“Ratch? I don’t feel so good.”

“Mmmmmm.” First Aid frowned as Ratchet didn’t seem too bothered by his pronouncement as he casually reached out an arm to stop the smaller medic from keeling over.

Either Ratchet.

He reset his visor but two Ratchets remained and the room continued to spin.

“Easy now, lie down.” Both Ratchets said as they guided him over to a berth and helped him up. “I’m just changing a few lines of coding. It’ll help you do your job.”

First Aid would have protested, but his vocaliser didn’t want to play, his limbs felt like they had been detached, the room was still spinning and either the medbay was experiencing a power cut or he was drifting offline.

“There, all done.” Ratchet said as he unplugged his uplink cable from First Aid with a pat to his helm as the younger medic blinked, resetting his visor.

“So, we were discussing what to do with the twins.”

First Aid frowned slightly as he levered himself up, the room finally staying somewhat still. “Leave them, they make nice femmes.”

Ratchet all but radiated smug pride. “That’s my mech.”


End file.
